I sometimes feel as if I've never fallen asleep. Never felt that bone deep rest that everyone else feels. I feel like I've been awake all my life and I just want to lay down and sleep for once, forever.

I fight this feeling a lot. I kick and I claw my mind away from it because I know there's only one way to get it. Only one way and I don't have the courage to do it. These thoughts scare me shitless. I'm scared of dying but I fear life. A whirlwind of fear. A fucking tornado and I'm scared of everything.
I feel like I'm waiting to be set free. I'm struggling to find that freedom in life so it leads me to think of the alternative. Maybe freedom is nothigness. I just don't want to go before my Mom does. I don't want her to feel she failed.

So for her I hold on. I fight and I kick and I curse and I claw my way away from that. Sometimes I feel like I'm screaming so hard but no one hears me. I'm hoping it's enough that I can hear It and I want to soothe what aches. I'm hoping as I always hope that I am enough.

Posts from the New BB

My father continues to fuck with my emotions. After literally years in between calls/visits he's calling me now "just to call"?! Like I'm emotionally no where near a place I can even begin to think about being anything but a stranger to you.

Some days I wish I could have a sit down with him and ask all those questions I've wanted to ask. I want to be able to cry and let him know how hard it's been being all by myself. Thinking I had no one but me and wondering if I'd be strong enough to survive by myself. I want to tell him these things and hope it damages him irreparably because that's how I've been damaged.

I don't know if we can have any type of relationship but then again I thought I'd stop wanting a father when I was a young kid and realized he was never going to be there but I guess I'm still just that kid.

Sometimes I wonder about my heart. I crave heartache, I crave chaos and turbulence. Love and loss. Anything to break this calm resolve. There's nothing on the surface, no anger or happiness or love or hurt. Nothing. I fear that cold will spread to the rest of me. I fear I'll never feel anything out loud. I fear the dark that I feel enveloping me and I fear those acts that are only completed in darkness.

I feel so lonely sometimes. It's so hard craving human touch and then flinching whenever someone gets too close. I fear they'll feel how cold I am and be repulsed and never deign to touch me again. So I push everyone away and continue to get cold.

I wonder about my true self and about this fear I have that my true self is this nothingness that I feel. I worry about it. I'm a work in progress and that's still difficult to accept. I just want to be ok and be content with that.

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New year, good year?

The year began with me suffering from the flu. I missed a few days of work because it had me laid all the way out. Even so this year I didn't feel left out or that I missed anything by celebrating the newness in sleep which is kind of new for me. In the past I have felt and expressed my loathing of staying home on New Year's Eve. Being home felt like my ushering a new year in the same monotony I had done the previous 364 days. I've always felt that being out, no matter where, would be much better than spending it alone at home watching other people have fun. This year though I was happy to be home. Sure I was recovering from the flu but it felt like it was exactly where I needed to be. Maybe this is another adult achievement unlocked, the one where you don't stress the small shit like whether or not you're at home to celebrate a new year. A lot of that has been happening lately. Adult achievements gained I mean, like paying off my student's loan, actually applying for that job I really want, going back to school, seriously figuring out what I want to do with my life, making concrete plans to achieve my goals, tolerating less and less fuckery.

I've been 1upping all over the place. It feels exhilarating and I'm sure bad times lay ahead somewhere, bad times are always ahead…somewhere, but I think I can handle them a little better than I did even 2 years ago.

And like I know bad times are ahead somewhere I know good times are everywhere, waiting for me to open my eyes and claim them and that's what this year is about for me. I vowed to say yes more this year, to be more action and less talk. I vowed to get a little healthier, to eat better and put some cardio in my life. I promised to get that piercing I've been putting off and go blonde and wear more dresses and go to the beach more often. I vowed to take more trips locally and internationally, to visit my brothers and mother. I vowed to make my Mom's life a thousand times better in whatever form I can. I vowed to make every second, every breath, every step and every decision count. Feels like I'm marrying myself, and in a way I kind of am. I'm taking responsibility for my life and the choices I have made in it. I'm taking responsibility and I'm working to improve my life. I think that's what becoming an adult means.

This also includes choosing who I want to spend my time with and who I allow to be a part of my life. There are a lot of things I tolerate about people and their beliefs but one thing I refuse to tolerate and have been vocal, somewhat, about is the blatant homophobia that some people in our society perpetuate. The lies people tell themselves to justify their treatment of others is fucking ridiculous. If we do not seriously examine the root and cause of this problem it will never be solved, it will never get better and this country will continue to suffer for it. The bible and religion are not the whole story and using it as an excuse to treat people the way they have done is the tragedy that befalls our amazing nation. We are so resilient and wonderful and I love being Jamaican but I HATE the way some people use their fucked up beliefs to justify their unjustifiable hate of and actions against a subsection of our society. It's fucked  up and I'm not here for it. And I'm not here for anyone who continues to spew the bullshit.

So this year is my year, the year of the grump, because let's face it I'm kind of a miserable bitch. I'm claiming it in all it's glory, in all it's magnificence I claim it. It's mine and I'm ready. Let's go!

World Aids Day

My aim this year is to end it as a volunteer for Jamaica AIDS Support. JAS is an organization that seeks to educate about the virus and it's transmission and assist with helping people not only learn how to live healthily but also prospering in the face of a positive diagnosis. The fight against this disease continues and we need as many people as possible to educate themselves and others with correct information for us to stop the rate of infection.

'Getting to Zero' is their motto for the 2012 campaign. Their aim this year is for zero new infections, zero AIDS related deaths and zero instances of discrimination. That's definitely a campaign I want to be a part of and hope to do so by the end of this year and continuing forward.

The caribbean is second only to sub-saharan Africa in it's infection rate and women, young women have a higher rate of infection than men. Men and women must learn to use protection in all instances of sexual conduct and get tested themselves as well as their partners to get tested. We need to encourage people to get tested and to remove the stigma getting tested has gained over the years.

There's never any shame or harm in seeking to know the truth.

More than 13,000 people became newly infected in the Caribbean in 2011, bringing the total number of people living with HIV/AIDS there to more than 230,000. AIDS claimed an estimated 10,000 lives in 2011. (http://www.amfar.org/about_hiv_and_aids/facts_and_stats/statistics__worldwide/)

HIV/AIDS Statistics: Caribbean

Adults age 15-49 living with HIV/AIDS - 4,00,000

New HIV infections - 45,000-80,000

Adult HIV prevalence age 15-49 (rate %) - 1.9-3.1

Women age 15-49 living with HIV/AIDS - 210,000

Children (ages 0-14) living with HIV/AIDS - 20,000

Children orphaned by AIDS (ages 0-14) currently living - 2,50,000

AIDS deaths (Adults and Children) - 30,000-50,000

Source: UNAIDS

Posts from the New BB

I remember the day my friend told me she was back with her on-again off-again ex. It wasn't memorable because they were on-again, over 10 years of their back and forth I was more than used to it. I was surprised when she started mentioning marriage and children. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Sure we're both 26 and at our peak of fertility but never once had it ever crossed my mind to have kids in my 20s. I made the assumption that it was the same for both of us. Over the last year and a half I realize I've been wrong about a lot of things and a lot of people. I could not wrap my mind around her talking about marrying this man.

In my mind I kept saying 'Seriously?! Are you being serious right now?' and I let slip that I thought she was losing her edge, talking about marriage to this man whom she'd had a roller coaster relationship for years. Maybe he had changed, maybe them both being older and more settled made them want to be more settled. I hate admitting it but I felt kinda betrayed. As if we'd made some blood pact at 10 that she was breaking. I felt like she was settling. Like sure you love this man now but are those feelings real? Or are they the residuals of so many years of connectedness?

I feel terrible writing that because I was being so judgmental and truthfully as we've grown steadily apart over the last few years I can't say wholeheartedly that I know what she wants anymore or how she feels. We're different people and I just had to accept that who she is now is considering those things as viable options. That she wasn't me who cries about being lonelyish one moment and then cringes at the thought of having a significant other the next. My other homie, KARP, has a new man in her life as well and the relationship is fresh and they're sharing endearments over social networks like twitter and facebook and I get the same feelings all over again. Maybe it's jealousy (it's not), maybe I'm just a mean old bitch who is both afraid of never feeling that and afraid of being overwhelmed by it. I don't do relationships well. I'm acerbic and cynical, terribly sarcastic and an acquired taste.

I fear I'm going to lose myself completely in a relationship so I never give more than needed of myself. I fear that I'll never feel that with anyone so I never give more than needed of myself. Catch-22 if there ever was one. I just cant imagine my friends being married with kids. It scares me. I'm scared about us not growing older but growing farther away from each other. I'm scared that I'll be standing by watching them build families and I'll just be standing there stagnant. That's scares the shit out of me.

Complex - Chapter 2

"I'm so sorry... ugh..." The deluge of vomit just would not stop coming and he was doubled over just letting it flow. Even as Jason tried to apologize throughout, it continued to flow from his mouth. He noticed that the girl's feet had moved about 5 feet away from him. He hoped it hadn't gotten on her.

"Is he dying? Shouldn't we do supm?" He heard her ask, seemingly concerned.

"How me fi know? My shoes get fuck up, they are dying." He heard the reply from the man he'd seen her with. The man he was supposed to be interviewing, San-Gee.

After an eternity of minutes the fountain of 'Eww' seemed to stop flowing. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and attempted to wipe his mouth.

"I'm so sorry. I guess the drinks didn't agree with me." He said unfolding his body from it's bent position. Looking at the disgusted and puzzled expressions on the faces of the two people around him.

The two made eye contact for a brief second before she turned away grinning.

"Great first impression." She said through a smile. "I'm Kerri Peart, San-Gee's manager." He notices that she doesn't extend her hand.

He wipes his mouth as best as he can hoping that when he opens it again nothing but words spill out.

"Nice to meet you." He replies.

"So we're just going to forget about my shoes?" San-Gee says, clearly annoyed and disgusted.

Jason glances down on San-Gee's now ruined shoes and groaned. "I'm really sorry about that, how can I make it up to you?"

"You have a new pair of shoes and a bathroom inna yuh back pocket?" He asks angrily.

Jason's short temper begins to flare. " I understand it's my fault but it was an accident, I've already apologized. What more you want?" He asks.

"My yute yuh need fi chill. You fuck up and I can't get upset?" San-Gee hissed his teeth angrily.

"Now boys no need to get upset. Jason right?" Kerri said moving closer to him. She glances down at his feet. "What size do you wear?" She asks cheekily.

"What?!" Both men exclaim simultaneously.

She laughs out loud, puzzling the two men, finally she says "He's performing and needs something to wear on stage. Seeing as it is your fault..." She shrugs as if the solution is obvious.

Jason weighs his options. After a few seconds he nods and says "I wear a size 12."

----------------

Barefoot and feeling sick, Jason watched San-Gee perform from back stage. At least that was what he was trying to do. He could not concentrate at all. He made the decision about two songs into the performance to call it a day and go home. Back stage was now very crowded with people he recognized from the tent earlier in the night. All with excited expressions watching San-Gee perform.

"You don't look too good." He heard someone say from his left. He turned to see a very attractive man about 6ft tall leaning against a rail checking him out.

"I don't feel very good either." He replied making his way through a cluster of people, moving closer to the stranger.

"You need any help?" the stranger asks. Pushing himself off the railing and moving towards him.

Jason finally made it through the crowd and was standing parallel to the man. "No I think I can manage." He says and smiles. "Thanks though Mr....." He says leading the man to respond.

"Kingston. Just Kingston." He replies extending his hand for a shake.

Jason takes the hand and replies "Jason. Just Jason. For now." He says, smiling. He sees someone approaching them and realizes it's San-Gee's manager Kerri.

"Hey Kingston, long time no see." She says offering a hug to the stranger.

"Hey baby girl, you not coming to the gym again? I could schedule some time for a little training session." He replies after the hug. He gives her a flirtatious up-down with his eyes. "Not that you need it."

She laughs. Jason notes that she does that a lot. "I've been busy but I'll definitely schedule a session for next week. I don't want anything that's not supposed to jiggle. To start jiggling." She turns from the stranger to him with a more serious expression. "Jason right? Sorry but the interview has to be re-scheduled."

"That's cool, I'm really sorry about earlier I don't know what came over me." He replies embarrassed.

She smiles and shrugs "Shit happens. Great story though. I hope it's included in your piece."

He pretends to contemplate it for a few seconds then replies "I don't think so." He fumbles for his Blackberry out of his pocket. "I already have your number so why don't I give you mine and we can set it up as soon as possible." He looks at Kingston who had been watching the conversation. "You can take my number too." He grins.

He notices Kerri's raised eyebrow and adds on quickly, "For the training session."

Complex - Chapter 1

Jason Sander slowly made his way on to the compound where the show would be held. He glanced at his watch then sighed. It was 12:19AM on Sunday morning and only the first few acts had performed. He deduced that this was going to be a long night and he was already freezing cold, tired and frustrated that he was being forced to do a story on this dude... Sanjay? He stopped walking and held the flier up to the light. No, San-Gee.

'What kind of name is that?' he thought.

A quick summation of the crowd made him determine that there over a thousand people at the venue. He wondered if the high turnout was for San-Gee as his was the most high profile name on the line-up.

He did a quick check of his surroundings hoping he'd see someone he knew to distract him from his 'duties'. At 6ft 4in tall it was easy to see over people's heads but he came up empty, besides it was too dark and too crowded to see anything much less recognize any familiar faces.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face, partly in frustration and partly to wake himself up. As he opened his eyes he sent a short prayer up to the heavens as he spotted the very open and very stocked bar. He began to make his way quickly to the bar deciding that the night would go much easier if he wasn't completely sober.

"Give me a Guinness and a shot of vodka." He ordered from the bartender.

With bottle in hand and feeling a slight buzz from two straight shots of vodka he determined it was time to make his way to the media tent at the back of the stage. After flashing his media pass to the imposing guard he found himself in the tent surrounded by artists, managers, entourage and other media personnel. He spotted a photographer friend and gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

He only recognized a few of the artists and even fewer familiar faces. The bio he'd created of San-Gee said he had a female manager but never attended shows with an entourage. There were a lot of females in the tent but he doubted that any had the title of manager.

He decided to just chill out and wait for San-Gee to make an appearance. He took a swig of his Guinness and realizing it was finished meandered his way to the tiny bar erected at the far end of the tent to order something else.

"You have food in here right?" He asked the bartender

"Yes. Oh sorry No. It done. Shoulda come earlier." was the reply he received.

Jason hissed his teeth in annoyance and ordered Henny on the rocks and another Guinness as a chaser. He hadn't eaten since lunch and knew all this alcohol was a very bad idea, at least sober Jason knew that. This slightly buzzed Jason was anticipating becoming drunk Jason and had thrown caution to the wind.

-----------------

San-Gee peeked out from back stage just to get a read of the size of the crowd and what conditions he'd be performing under. His eyes almost bulge out of his head as he sees a bigger crowd than he anticipated.

He turned away from the stage and clasped his hands together. Rubbing them together slowly as he'd done a million times before when he was nervous. For some unknown reason it calmed him down but it was a giveaway of his present mental state.

"Don't be nervous David." He heard Kerri Peart say, his manager and sometimes best friend.

She was in best friend mode right now, calling him by his government David Holder, wrapping her arms around his waist her head resting on his chest. He was over a foot taller than her at 5ft 11in but her hair made for about 6 extra inches and was now tickling his chin.

"I'm trying not to be." He said wrapping his arms around her.

"The crowd is fucking huge but that's good right? More people, more power, more money, more respect." He said confidently.

She gave him a tight squeeze then released him.

"Exactly and this is just the stepping stone for bigger shows. You have what they want and you look good giving it to them." She said looking up at him and smirking.

He let out a loud laugh at her innuendo and bent to give her a quick peck. Their relationship was solid. He'd known her for 21 years having met her at St. Richard-Hugh's Primary school. She was the tiniest first grader but very feisty. She'd saved his ass a million times from real and imagined foes. She was the closest thing to a sister he'd ever had.

That 's the only reason he'd let her put him in this black leather biker jacket, bright green graphic tee, 'fitted' jeans and bright green Chuck Taylors. Well he liked the Chucks, those were more his style but every thing else felt foreign. He pinched the shirt away from his body and looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"What size is this? A s-medium?" He asked raising one neatly, but inconspicuously, manicured eyebrow.

She laughed "David it's what the girls love to see. Shows those abs nicely." she said rubbing her hands up and down his mid-section. He hissed his teeth jokingly and turned to his left where he saw someone approaching.

A very tall someone at that with a slow, confident gait. He noticed the press pass and looked at Kerri who shrugged her shoulders and took out her blackberry.

"Hi. Jason Sander from the Observation we're supposed to have an interview...?" The stranger said upon reaching them. He stretched his hand towards San-Gee for a hand shake and then proceeded to bend at the waist and vomit all over his Chuck Taylors.

Posts from the New BB

Two shots of rum and the oppressive heat of Portmore City have me feeling woozy. It might be attributed to the food I'd forgone eating the entire day. Unfortunately 2 slices of pizza don't help with alcohol.

My homegirl had been sipping some concoction she called 'Sizzurp' all day. Her sizzurp was a whole heap of rum with a tweps of lemonade. She was feeling mellower than a house cat, I have a feeling it was one part sizzurp, one part pizza and one part whatever she'd been smoking. Can't help but love her.

I think it was a bad decision to take the bus home. The bus stop has no working street lamp so it's lights out on either side of the stop for at least 20 feet. I def don't feel safe. Made the decision to walk back to the lighted bus stop I'd seen a few yards down the road. I had seen several people there as well so I felt more assured about some semblance of safety.

I think I'm drunk. I'm trying my hardest to ignore that feeling. Also why the hell do I smell bacon?

Posts from the new BB

When the mood swings down and I know what's coming I try everything in my power to shut it down. Often it works and I'm able to escape the abyss of loneliness and negativity. Occasionally, though, I am overcome and have to live in that darkness until it decides to show me a light.

In those times there are more than 1 of me. The 'normal' me, the apathetic me and the psychopath. I imagine they live in a house, the normal me stays in the attic trying for assurance and positivity. Apathetic me stays in bed and doesn't give a fuck about anything. Eating, sleeping, talking, breathing. Anything. The psychopath is Jack Nicholson in the Shining. Every word is a stab and every stab leaves a scar. Those scars never leave and the wounds never fully heal they're just pulsating and waiting for the next triggering event.

I live in my head for a few days. Happy that my job is routine because I have no space or function to reason. My brain has a singular focus of apathy and self loathing. In that time I try to find something real to ground myself. Whether it's writing or reading or playing a mind numbing game. Shockingly enough this keeps my mind busy enough to drown out some of the negativity. It's a coping mechanism I've discovered and used over the years along with a few others that have kept me alive and relatively healthy.

Depression shelters you. Pretends to be a warm coat on a cold night and quickly envelopes you and slowly chokes you to death. It's a trap that's difficult to escape but I've had fewer and fewer episodes which makes me aware of my own strengths. I'm working on it.

The Vow

I don't know or care about boxing or football, the soccer kind. Unless Jamaica's playing a crucial match, I have nary a single fuck to give about it. I'll watch basketball, I like it, but not all 4 quarters, the first and last only. Who cares about the 24 minutes of play time and countless time outs in between? Not I. Same goes for american football and rugby.

I will always be about track and field events. I'll watch track and field any day and I love the olympics and world championships because my Jamaican cannot be quieted, it's where we excel and I feel obligated to cheer us on. It's in my blood and our passports we have to promise to cheer Jamaican and be Jamaican every time there's a Jamaican athlete in the event.

I can't get enthused about most sports, I'm sorry. I'd rather not hear about some injury to some dudes tibia that's going to hinder his.. whatever I don't know because I'm not interested. Also fuck cricket. But I'll listen.

I'll listen to you talk about the seemingly unending, mind numbing boxing match that doesn't seem like anyone's really winning. And I'll listen to you talk about the merits of Juventus against Manchester United even though I wasn't aware they were different teams much less what sport they're for. (Soccer, right?)

We'll argue about the Celtics having a chance for the title this year (which they do every year in my book. Shut up about the Lakers.) And I promise I won't hate you if they fall as long as you don't say I told you so.

This and all things I vow to you. I vow to put the cap on the toothpaste and to never leave your side in times of crisis. I vow to always try to cook a meal you like and to keep you in my heart forever. I vow to save at least one snack for you and to be there when you fall with a cookie, open arms, an open heart and my love. I vow to try my hardest never, ever to interrupt that crucial first round doesn't mean anything game and to be truly yours and only yours. Forever. This I vow.

I can feel my calf muscle!!!!

Sweet workout Jesus! Is it the jump jacks Lord? Is it the yoga? Can you please take this fear I have to restart Insanity so that I can smooth out my love handles Lord? I have actual anxiety about seeing Shaun T on my tv. I need a patronus Lord.

I enjoy working out. I love the way ot makes me feel. I joined the gym as soon as I was able to when I got a job and I'd go at least 5 times a week. In college I worked out a schedule for myself that included an aerobics class 4 days out of the week. On both occasions I lost over 40 lbs over a 3 month period. I loved it. I loved how I felt and how my body felt in clothes and the reactions I got from people who were seeing me through that journey.

My problem is not exercise, my problem is consistency. I'm not at all consistent. It fucks with me sometimes that I can't follow through. I dislike that facet of my personality. It reminds me too much of my parents who, to put it nicely, weren't very consistent with me. I don't want to be their mistake who has their mistakes.

So I'm back on the healthy kick. Trying to be more consistent, organizing my thoughts and my life to include exercise so that it feels like a natural entity in my life. I'm working on it and I'm surprised how much it's helping me work on myself.

Posts from the New BB

I've always found it hilarious that people come to me for advice. About relationships, careers, studies, parenting...everything. I cannot figure out my own life but I do have a gift when it comes to helping others find their paths.

I can't toot my own horn at all because the advice I usually give them is to follow their hearts, pay attention to their gut instincts and add a dash of logic to cushion your fall if all else fails. It's generic advice that they've probably heard from someone else and themselves but they need a third to solidify the theory.

I have no great life changing advice. Mostly I just sit and listen. I listen to both what they're saying and what they're trying to say. They're always trying to say something. Like the dude who was telling me how much he loved his girlfriend but was falling out of love with her or the lady who was terrified about her husband's being ill and so far away or the girl who wants more than anything to be independent and self reliant.

I listen to all of it. Give them some minutes of my time because I know how difficult it is to want to scream and have it come out as a whimper. A whimper so quiet no one hears or ignores. So I listen, I give them that ear when they need it. I can't measure. I can't measure taking a half hour of my hour lunch to reassure this man that he is not the cause of his father's abuse, that he has to live his own life and not his father's because the past can't be changed, the future is unpredictable and all we've got is the present that we're all trying to escape. He already knew that. I just vocalized that inner voice. That shit can't be measured. Not the help I attempt to offer or the toll it takes on me.

I never tell people what to do because I don't know what to do but I know that in most cases in their hearts and minds they've already made their decisions. I just help them to see that and allow them to be brave enough to follow through.

Posts from the New BB

I love weddings. I love the tradition and the energy of two people pledging their lives to each other. I just love weddings. Not sure how I feel about marriages but weddings are amazing.

Seeing the bride make her way down the aisle, watching the man's reaction as he sees her for the first time. All made up, probably more beautiful and radiant than she's ever been or will be. His first thought is most likely 'Oh shit I'm getting married!' followed by 'She looks beautiful.' then finally 'Mine forever.' Or at least that's what I'm telling myself they're thinking.

Whether it's a religious ceremony or simply spiritual there is an energy in the air that just can't be explained. I call it 'love mist' because it seems even the air changes. Everything becomes foggy and everyone's connected and feeling the same things, happiness, love, pride... We, well I, always send out as much positive energy as I can to the couple as a means of wishing them 'good luck' for their future. I always cry or tear up because weddings are so beautiful.

Not only do I like attending weddings I like planning them... For other people. The stress is something I'd welcome if in the end you get a beautiful ceremony.

I love weddings.

Posts from the New BB

I think about all the sacrifices I've made and I feel like it's never enough. Feeling like I haven't bled enough to earn any respect and feeling like no one respects me or my talents weighs heavily on my brain.

I hate my job. Not the company just the job. 5 years of my life. I'm grateful for the life it's afforded me, grateful for the opportunities and benefits I've received but I'm so mentally past this position it's ridiculous. I pretend everyday to give a fuck about the problems, the process, the bullshit. Every day of my life is pretend. The say's I'm allowed to escape I spend at home where I'm so mentally incapacitated that I never leave my house because I feel safe here.

My anxieties have developed anxieties of their own and I have no clue how to escape. I think about quitting my job all the time. I've applied for so many different positions in the company and have been turned down so often that I started applying for the impossible shit just to get a laugh. I'm a fucking asset to these people but to them I'm merely a pawn and I'm praying for the day I can leave and finally be free.

I've always harped on the fact that to step out of your comfort zone you must be brave AND prepared. I've failed myself because I'm not at all prepared to exit. I'm so scared to lose this job and so scared to keep it at the same damn time.